Why I'm Genuinely Concerned I'll Never Be Intimate Again

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charming girl

I’m not getting any and I haven’t been touched by a man in eight months.

I'm reaching that crazy place I go to between relationships where I undulate between existing as a walking hormone of perpetual horniness, lustfully noticing every gorgeous creature that walks by, and sinking into despair that I'll never again feel the strength of a man in my bed against me.

Go ahead and laugh at me, roll your eyes, and snort. You wouldn't be the first person.

The few I share this real fear with inevitably assure me (in semi-patronizing tones with only the best of intentions I'm sure) that I will, in fact, experience intercourse again.

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Do they believe that with conviction? I don't. Because, of course, I'm not just talking about sex.

I have no interest in a mindless hookup with a stranger. I'm not referring to the mechanics of the act; I'm talking about everything that falls between the place I find myself now — isolated, feeling unattractive some days, pretty on others, and really ugly-messy emotionally — to where I think I need to be in order to be worthy of loving and sexual tenderness from a good man.

Meeting someone and getting to know them a bit, be it a first date, a second date, more dates, attraction, chemistry, building trust, developing intimacy, getting naked and vulnerable yet feeling safe enough to open up in all manners of speaking, scares the ever-loving bejesus out of me.

It isn't about trusting the other person; I have trust issues with myself. I've made some very poor choices in mates and I've made some very poor decisions in my relationships with men.

Having previously screwed myself over, I don't trust myself to make good decisions when it comes to love, sex, or relationships. I need to move through this uncertain phase of feeling unworthy before I can completely step back into my sexuality rather than dipping my toe in and out to check the temperature.

When I honestly look at my past relationships in an attempt to learn from them, I try to take responsibility for what I did (and didn't) bring to the table. I don't get off scot-free when it comes to my failed love affairs or marriages.

Thus, I'm unsure of how to rebuild trust in myself. It seems, from what I've read or heard, trust is built through the actions of being trustworthy.

I know I'm trustworthy and I have the best intentions at heart but, to be honest, my past is ugly and it's hard to let go of that.

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Having spent my thirties with my husband, I'm starting to get wrinkles around my eyes, and gray hair, and have to manually manipulate my breasts within my bra to get my nipples pointing in the right direction, not lazy-eyed, scaring the children. (Oh, I'm also much more set in my ways and clear on my deal-breakers.)

I'm childlike with wonder and fear when I think about "adult" relationships.

I've been in love and had five "real" relationships over four decades. I've found five men in life that "fit" with me on varying levels but none were "the one."

I'm basically starting over in every aspect of my life and I'm single at an age when most of my peers are well-fortified in both careers and marriage, with young children. I think it'll be quite a few years before my age group hits the inevitable wave of divorces and then that group will need a couple of years to heal before they're ready for a relationship.

I don't mean to sound bitter but the statistics don't lie. The bulk of my generation isn't currently available for sex.

The future I envision for myself is also problematic: world traveler and author. This life path isn't exactly conducive to regular sex, committed relationships, or even leaving my house much when I'm "home." Writing is a solitary activity.

Sometimes I think I'm nailing my own coffin shut with my choices.

My psychologist wants me to take up golfing. She says I'll meet men worthy of me and intelligent enough to challenge me there. But is golf really the answer?

She told me that when I get my power back I'll have men willing to kill for me. I don't need anyone to go to that length, though, we can all just keep living.

But a date and a kiss and a hug would go a long way for this sometimes-horny, sometimes-lonely, sometimes-powerful girl. And let's be realistic — I wouldn't mind some sex, either.

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Rebecca Clare is a writer and former contributor to YourTango. Her work has been published in The Good Men Project and The Elephant Journal, among others.

This article was originally published at it was never just an affair. Reprinted with permission from the author.